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none of the public could see me, then no one would hassle me.
Towards the end of the month, a storm was approaching - metaphorically and literally. Spies had confirmed that the Matak tribe had learnt of me and had somehow found out about my high mana count. The Matak Shaman, I knew, wanted to challenge me. But with just a fireball and a cloud of insects, I knew it wouldn't be enough.
Rain poured down from the heavens turning the settlement into a land of wet mud. I stared out one of the windows and saw a bolt of lightning travel from the sky to the ground in a flash. I didn't hear Bartholomew come in behind me and jumped when he spoke.
'Even though an act of nature may seem impossible to reproduce, it can be done with the right tools.'
I turned around. 'What?'
'The thought of reproducing a lightning bolt is scary to say the least. The amount of power that is stored in the bolt itself and the strength
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it needs to travel from sky to ground is immense. But there are some who can reproduce that. And you are one of them.'
'Seriously?'
Bartholomew nodded. 'Not only can you create lightning, but you can create swamps, tornados and floods. You can erode and shape land in any way you want. But all of them are further up the scale - it will be a while before we finally get to manage them.
'Well, am I ready for the lightning? Or do I need to go through other pointless spells?'
'There are a few more before there but because of the massing threat of the Matak, I think we should skip to it. I don't think a cutting spell would work that much against that tribe.'
We went through the incantation: shoka! It sounded quite powerful.
'Cast your mind to the storm above - pretend you are the storm and then cast the spell. The more you concentrate, the stronger the lightning bolt.'
I did as I was told. Inside, I felt I was the
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